


Burn Me

by ThePugAddict



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: But I regret nothing, Every fandom I touch bursts to flames, F/M, Face Slapping, I can't tell you how much aspirin I took while writing, Masturbation, Obsession, Power Play, Reader Insert, Rough Sex, Seducing the hero, Smut, Trevor is such a savage, Witchcraft, and all to create this horrid monster, black witch reader, submissive Trevor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 02:36:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11727726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePugAddict/pseuds/ThePugAddict
Summary: You were a witch. Dracula's finest inquisitor and the best of the coven. You could have whatever you wanted, couldn't you?





	Burn Me

**Author's Note:**

> I just watched the new Castlevania series with my friend just a week ago and man, oh man... Some good stuff right there. I had a ton of other projects to tend to, but the hype was way too strong for me to not contribute to this fandom while I could. Hope you guys enjoy.

Oh, why did your messenger crows always have to be so disruptive? More times than not, it seemed they came to you at the worst of moments. Usually, they came when you were too busy or too exhausted to take any messages. The cause of the trouble was that ridiculously short time limit for when you could tend to them, for once the crow found you, a message could only stay there for a moment before it vanished. Such was the flaw of that pitiful animal magic spell. You _needed_ a better way to get your information, preferably not by chatting with filthy birds. That, or you’d have to consider using that “do-not-disturb” enchantment that you kept in a book off to the side somewhere.

 

This time, the crow had flown in during your daily me-time, when being shut off from the world was your big priority but apparently wasn’t a guarantee. You were bathing in the hot springs in a cave nearby your house, lounging peacefully in the steaming pool until you heard the echo of flapping wings bouncing off the cave walls. With a low groan, you opened your eyes and looked over your shoulder to be greeted by your bird, its feathers settling tightly against its slick body before hopping towards you. You turned around and faced it, resting your arms on the edge of the cold stone floor. Had the crow recognized facial expressions, it would’ve sheepishly backed away. “ _What now?_ ”

 

The creature didn’t move. Massive, black eyeballs only stared at you through a dullness. As brainless as the bird appeared, you knew by its trance that there was a magnitude of information stored behind those eyes. In fact, its bizarre indifference was stirring up your interest. With a look of curiosity, you slowly brought your index finger to the crow’s forehead, gently resting it upon the smooth, silken space between its eyes.

 

You began to extract. The message was long, but it was as clear as crystal. By the end of it, your face had turned to that of a woman who stumbled upon a bag of diamonds.

 

“Impossible.”

 

Once the message ended, you didn’t take your time getting out of the water. Not much time was taken to dry off before putting on your robe, either. With your nerves getting strummed like harp strings, you simply couldn’t stand to waste a second.

 

“Yes,” you murmured. “I will tell him.”

 

~ooo~

 

The flames of your hearth were but teeny flickers when you started it for the conjuring. Now, the fire had swollen so great that it had grown a bit too close for comfort. Fearing for the hem of your dress, you had even taken a step back until the blaze began to settle. You had shielded your eyes as to protect yourself from a wild red cinder flying out of the hearth, and when you lowered your hand, you saw the flames warping into wicked shapes and shades that hardly resembled a fire so much as it did something even more sinister.

 

A face. One that looked as if he desired to watch the world burn. Nevertheless, it was a face you couldn’t have been any more pleased to see. Putting on your most delighted smirk, you bowed your head and curtsied for the fiery figure. “My lord.”

 

Red flickers resembling brows were scrunching in contempt. The dark, booming voice reflected it. “Witch,” he billowed. “What purpose have you to disturb me?”

 

Even in the light of this aggression, you didn’t quiver. Pride was swelling in your heart too much for you to care, for you were certain that your next words would bring you some benefit. Maybe. “I’ve received news from the city of Gresit,” you stated aloud, almost singing.

 

To your dismay, the expression didn’t improve any. Instead of softening as you hoped, the whole face drooped, including the eyelids. “And I as well.”

 

You frowned. Your pride instantly shattered like glass. Your heart felt like it was deflating and sinking to the pit of your stomach. Oh, heavens, what a useless and bothersome woman you probably were right now. What an embarrassment. He received the news _already_? Good God, it had only been the morning after those events unfolded and… No. He couldn’t have heard. Though you certainly couldn’t call yourself a woman of faith, you were silently _praying_ to God that whatever reached your lord’s ears—if it were the same information—was not from any of your fellow coven members. Trying not to look too astonished or upset, you placed a hand to your chest. “Oh. My lord,” you responded. “What news, might I ask, have you heard? Perhaps the information I’ve received is… a bit different?”

 

A faint, low sound echoed from the fire, which you presumed was a hum. “Well… For one…” Before he continued further, there was a great pause. Right away, you could see the devilishly glowing eyes turning to narrow slits. The hair upon his upper lips turned a bit upward as the face slowly contracted into a grimace, as if he wished to spit upon the very thought of whatever he was about to say. “According to Valeria, my son has returned.”

 

Alas! Pain to your chest. You thought you were going to be sick. Valeria had told him? _Valeria_? Oh, he had to be kidding. That poor excuse of a witch, Valeria? The stupid, desperate little amateur? That plain, ugly little troll who smelled of piss and pigs? You had been practicing magic for _far_ longer than she had; how on earth had she surpassed you in communication? He best not had rewarded her. He best not had held her in _any_ higher regard than the rest of the coven. She wasn’t worthy of such honor. Not like you. Oh, dammit. _Dammit dammit dammit_. Now, you were _definitely_ going to get rid of those messenger crows. Slow, unreliable little shits…

 

But wait! Perhaps all wasn’t lost. You knew there was more to the story. Perking up, you began to gesture with your hand. “Oh! But my lord. Has she also told you about the rats he’s rumored to be associating with?”

 

“Humans,” scoffed the master. “Who else?”

 

_Aha._

 

The corners of your lips curled up slowly. “Not just anyone, Sire,” you said, nearly letting out a chuckle at the end. Perhaps an amateur couldn’t best you after all. “You see, at the time when your horde had attacked Gresit, there were said to be some interesting folk residing in the city. Outcasts of the Church, to be exact.”

 

The pattern of flames looked inquisitive. “So my son chooses to associate with a bunch of recluses. People of God or not, no number of humans can be any use to him other than for nourishment. In the end, they’ll all be nothing more than piles of worms’ meat. Why should they matter at all?”

 

Now for the rich part. You crouched down closer to the hearth like you were ready to tell a secret. Frankly, you couldn’t wait to see the reaction. At last, you opened your lips, and the news rode upon a hushed tone. “Because one of them,” you uttered, “was a Belmont.”

 

You really wished you didn’t get so close to your fireplace—your cheeks were almost burnt by the viciously abrupt flare.

 

“ _ARE YOU SURE?_ ”

 

Your eyes shut tight while you flung your hand in front of you. Bright yellow was flailing like a cluster of beast tails from out of the hearth. Good God, he was going to burn your house down if you got him too wound up. You shouted loud enough to be heard over the roaring. “P-Please, Sire! This was only by word of mouth! I-It’s not a guarantee!”

 

To your relief, the roaring hushed as quickly as it started. The blazing from the hearth had dramatically retracted, and you were able to look back into the apparition of your master’s face. Although he wasn’t raging, he appeared relatively disgruntled. “It isn’t confirmed,” you assured. “I promise you that.”

 

“It’s impossible,” he hissed. “The Belmont clan was deemed exterminated. If it’s just a rumor, then it better be such and nothing more.”

 

Another opportunity to prove your worth?

 

“Then regardless, someone must look into this. We mustn’t waste any energy or resources if we don’t have to. But if the rumors prove true, then we must be prepared. Your plans were going so well up until last night. Surely, you don’t want any more hindrances, my lord.”

 

 The face bobbed slightly. “Very well,” he answered. “Then I shall assign you for this task. Go forth, witch, and investigate these speculations. Gather enough knowledge to either confirm or dismiss them. Either way, report to me what you’ve found, and waste no time doing so.” After speaking, the face slowly started to turn. “Enough talk. I have matters to tend to. You are dismissed.”

 

Proud heart swelling again, you bowed your head.

 

“Thank you, Lord Dracula.”

 

~ooo~

 

A few days and nights passed. The investigation was a headache, but you managed to track them down quickly. All it took you were a few interrogations of peasants. And, just to cover your tracks, an equal number of incinerated bodies.

 

Your research had taken you to a town not too far from Gresit. Even though it wasn’t as large as a major city, there was a fair amount of activity buzzing within its walls. Even the population seemed a little large, but you figured this was due to the rapid influx of refugees from regions struck by the Night Horde. To be honest, you found the refugees to be kind of funny, since you were certain that they were all going to die anyways. Why bother escaping the inevitable?

 

Nevertheless, a crowd didn’t stop you from spotting them.

 

Or him.

 

Standing at a window overlooking the marketplace, you were sipping on some blush Wallachian wine when the magnified reflection of fur from a cloak flashed across your glass. You couldn’t help it, though. You were as curious as a cat. You had to set the glass down and take a look.

 

~ooo~

 

And so the rumors were true.

 

Trevor Belmont. The name was supposed to make you want to scream, but after today, it was stuck in your head like a song. Instead, it brought you thrill. Were you really supposed to be feeling this good when you heard the name of the enemy? Dracula would certainly disapprove.

 

But you didn’t care.

 

Like some sort of memory spell, the wonder you witnessed in the marketplace danced in your mind for the rest of the day, all without wane. Its effect, however, was coming down on you the hardest now that evening had come and you were settling. After pouring yourself another glass of the same wine you had earlier, you rested your body on the bed while staring meditatively into the fireplace. The dance of glowing flames in addition to the fruity aftertaste upon your tongue facilitated the flow of your thinking, and consequently, the picture of the marketplace had become much more vivid to you while you sat.

 

In all seriousness. What was happening to you? You felt restless. Every breath you took was a little shallower, and your heart was working as hard as if you had been rushing around all day. You knew it had to do with what you saw, because you truly hadn’t been that busy since then. But with such an impeccable taste, it was a rarity for anything—or anyone—to ever galvanize you this way.

 

With leisure, you took another sip of your drink, and it almost felt like the reflection of a furred cloak was ready to pass through your glass again. Right away, it triggered off the image of a tall, broad silhouette of a man. The first to catch your attention were the broad shoulders that were exaggerated by his hefty cloak. Still, even with the large cloth over his figure, it was plain to see that the man was not only young but also in striking shape, as told by the fit of his shirt: a pretty asset that was uncommon in Wallachian men nowadays. Gaze honing in upon his face, you had absorbed every angle that asserted nothing short of masculine beauty. Perhaps your favorite feature was his jawline, square and handsomely bordered by a thin scruff. That, or maybe it was the luscious pair of lips upon that face: they were soft, plump and curved like the edges of flower petals. And unless you wanted your heart to burst, you couldn’t dare fixate so much on the sky-blue eyes, the long nose, the scar etched perfectly upon his cheek, the sun captured in his dark hair.

 

All this, belonging on the body of a man who was after Dracula. Did that mean he was after you as well? Not at the moment. Not yet. As far as you knew, he was completely unaware of your existence, let alone your part in the vampire lord’s work. Rest assured, though, he would discover you soon enough. And when he did, then maybe you’d be on his hunting list. Maybe…

 

No. You _would_ be on his hunting list. You’d make damn sure of it.

 

The thought compelled you to crack a soft smile.

 

And for the next few moments, there you laid upon your bed, carrying on with the rest of your sweet thoughts, drink in hand. Though you were enjoying the warmth of the fire, a warmth of a different kind was beginning inside of you.

 

Without thinking, your free hand, once resting beside you to prop you up, had wandered until it found a place upon your thigh. For a while it rested there, making light scrunches in the fabric of your dress, playing leisurely and drawing circles over the softness. Overtime, your hand kept playing with your dress until the skirt was hitched upward to your knees.

 

You didn’t bother to pull it back down. You were far too preoccupied with imagining that Belmont backing you up into a corner like an animal.

 

_His prey._

Your palm stirred up again. This time, sluggishly, it brushed over the exposed skin of your knee before it moved up again. Higher was the dress being moved out of the way to expose a beautiful leg to the cool night air, the skin glazed with a soft golden ribbon from the fire’s light. Here, you caressed this beloved skin ever-so-slowly, allowing yourself to indulge in the way it fueled your internal fire together with the imprint of the hunter’s face. When you pictured that face gazing down at you, blue eyes reflecting a powerful, predatory arrogance, your caress grew a little hungrier.

 

Your grasp was digging into your soft flesh while it smoothed up your inner thigh, squeezing a loud sigh out of you. In your fantasy, you decided to let the tables turn. You’d only look up at him and grin. At that point, you’d have a trick up your sleeve, no doubt. Not for your entertainment, but for his. And what was a face of arrogance would slowly turn to astonishment. Perhaps a little fear. And of course, above all things, a generous return of the feeling you’d so boldly reveal for him. Desire.

 

_My prey._

There was a faint impact with a nerve. Your breath suddenly jammed. Snapping back into tune with your senses in the physical world, you realized that you had made contact with your sex.

 

Oh, sweet, sweet hell. You would sell your soul to the Devil to have Trevor Belmont’s hand take the place of your own.

 

… Oh. Wait. You already _did_ sell your soul. But that was beside the point…

 

“ _WITCH_.”

 

That abrupt fiery boom could have made cities fall. Within a split second, the fantasy had crashed down like a splash of water. Your trance was lifted. All that came bursting forth in reply was the greatest loss of control you ever had. First a high-pitched shriek, then the outcry of glass against hard wood, and finally the thud of your body against the floor.

 

Tangled up in your flustered mess and a bedsheet, you made wide eyes at the fireplace before you.

 

Now, you remembered. You forgot to call upon Dracula today.

 

~ooo~

 

If there was one thing you could watch to pass the time, then your first choice would’ve been the rampage of the night creatures. Funny, though, because they weren’t the best-looking of things, and certainly not the cleanest either. What did you see in them that ordinary humans didn’t? Maybe you liked them solely because you could watch the demons from an entirely different perspective. The humans were the ones who needed to worry about their blood getting splattered all over the damn place. They were the unfortunate stars of the show. You, on the other hand, were just the audience.

 

You knew those poor refugee souls wouldn’t escape for long. Now, their fate had found them here in this town, bringing with it all the promises of the most degrading death a mortal could suffer. Nevertheless, unlike other night raids you had watched, this one would prove one of the most remarkable yet. This time, they were _fighting back_ ; doing a wonderful job at it too, thanks to the company they had been keeping.

 

From your cozy spot atop the roof of a cathedral tower, the whole spectacle looked like a herd of sheep walking together in a pen, much different from the familiar look of scattered specks moving around erratically like mice in a box. It was this synchrony which occasionally made you giggle in between tastes of your wine.

 

And it was a sudden break in this synchrony which almost made you choke on it. Far down yonder at the front of the herd was a wilder shape. It had probably been there almost the whole time, but you didn’t notice it until your eye was caught by the slim movement of a whip.

 

That, of course, was when you felt the _real_ ecstasy of the show. Without any second thoughts, or any fears of being spotted, you changed “seats” a few times just to get a closer look.

 

~ooo~

 

The entertainment ended quicker than usual, but you were drunk long afterwards. Not on sweet wine, but on an indulgence of another kind.

 

The light of the pale full moon shone through the window upon your body, making the beads of sweat glisten like ice upon your skin. You looked so frozen upon the bed. You breathed and cried like such. You _shivered_. Yet, your flesh felt anything but cold.

 

Your hand worked vigorously to embrace the fire dancing in your body, dancing all the way up your spine, into your heart, into your head. Upon your thoughts, its dance manifested in the form of the lively fighting body that was embedded so heavily into your memory. The whip—oh, the whip that snared your gaze right in—moved and swayed like it was a living extension of the body controlling it, seemingly burning with just as much intensity. The figure riddled beneath his clothes didn’t lie to you when it put in the suggestion that he had such astounding athletic skill. Such power, such strength, such virility.

 

Oh, may Trevor Belmont bless you with it!

 

As he kept on dancing for you in your memory, you grew closer to your climax. Twisting your head and whimpering, you viciously worked your hand upon yourself to imitate the power as best as you could. To amplify it, you were even forced to take advantage of some fire magic, which burned you a little but produce more overall pain than pleasure (though either way, pain and pleasure were all the same to you now). Your fingers ached, but you didn’t care. Your fingers could break, your _whole body_ could break, but you didn’t care. Whatever it took to mimic the fire to throw your flesh and bones into carnal heaven.

 

As wonderful as it felt tonight, you knew better. You knew this wouldn’t be enough. You could stand outside a flame and feel the heat, but unless you stood within the flames themselves, _nothing_ on the outside could recreate the true burn. You wanted the real deal. You wanted his fire. You wanted his vigor. _You wanted him_.

 

You’d find a way to get what you want. You always did.

 

~ooo~

 

_1 WEEK LATER…_

 

~ooo~

 

“So. I assume _you’re_ Dracula’s inquisitor?”

 

“If that’s what you call my connection to him, then yes.”

 

“No surprise that he’d be associating with witches, but asking them to do his footwork is a little odd. Especially at a time like this. Isn’t an army of demons enough to bring humans to their demise?”

 

“The time doesn’t matter. Lord Dracula still has other needs aside from satisfying revenge. Demons can only serve as his soldiers. Nothing more, nothing less.”

 

“Still sounds pretty ironic. If he hated humans so much, then why would he still rely upon them? Shouldn’t the demons be tearing limbs off _your kind_ as well?”

 

“They won’t touch me. As a matter of fact, I plan to explain that shortly. But right now, I have something much bigger to discuss with you, _Trevor Belmont_.”

 

You could hear the slow pace of boots against a creaky floor as the hunter stepped further into the light. You avoided seeming taken aback by his countenance, even as his posture asserted confidence and made your heart race. “Must be something damn good, then.” Mixed into his serious expression was a hint of egotism—one of the traits you really adored most about him, in actuality. “A very bold move to invite your enemy inside for a chat, especially in such a vulnerable state,” he continued. “Unlike you, I’m completely armed. And it looks like you’ve got no one else here to guard you. I could kill you right where you stand, and no one would be here to stop me. That is, unless you have some trick up your sleeve that I don’t know about.”

 

Oh, how arrogant. How charming. You smiled and let out an amused chuckle. “You talk as if I’m some delicate little flower. You have no idea what I’m capable of, Belmont. I’m one of the most powerful practitioners of black magic in all of Wallachia.” After uncrossing your legs, you stood up slowly, placing your wine glass off to the side. Knowing that Trevor’s eyes were on you made you want to take your turn to express yourself. As you began to approach the hunter, you made sure to move your hips just right as your leisurely pace became a sleek catwalk, the fitted skirt of your gown flowing smoothly with the movement of your legs. You kept full eye contact with him even as you got close, and to your delight did he do likewise, watching you a little curiously. “And Besides,” you added, stopping in front of him, “Killing you is not in my interest. And for that matter, neither is killing anyone else.”

 

_Hmm… Even more handsome up close…_

 

Trevor snorted loudly. “Right. Because assisting a bloodthirsty vampire in destroying the world doesn’t mean you want anybody to die.”

 

“It’s a matter of survival, not picking sides,” you replied. Maintaining your smile and turning away, you began to walk towards a window nearby. From your view, you could see that the sun would set within about an hour’s time, soon to mark the beginning of a night raid upon yet another city. Trevor and his comrades had already gotten the people ready; you were sure of it. “Dracula is invincible. It would be foolish not to side with him if you can.”

 

“That’s not true,” said Trevor. “There are ways to end him. I’m in possession of one.”

 

You sighed and closed your eyes, placing your hand up against the glass. “You don’t understand. This isn’t some ordinary vampire you’re dealing with. Dracula is perhaps the most powerful being in the world. Not to mention, he’s a very skilled wielder of black magic. Even if you took his life, there are still plenty of ways for him to keep coming back into this world and tormenting mankind all over again. It will be a vicious never-ending cycle.”

 

“So what if he keeps on coming back? Even if he does, we’ll be ready to put him back into Hell every single time. We can’t just give up because of it. We have no choice. Otherwise, he’ll destroy everything and everyone.”

 

Your eyes opened. “It doesn’t have to be that way.” You turned around to look back at the hunter. “There’s another option.”

 

His eyes narrowed into blue slits. “What do you mean?”

 

Heart leaping in your chest, you smiled cunningly. “First, let me tell you something.” You walked back towards him casually, once again allowing your hips to swing a little. “The demons are entirely fixated on eliminating every human they can find. However, they don’t seem to acknowledge humans who wield black magic. Why is that?”

 

The man continued to watch you silently. You stopped just barely a foot away from him. For a second, you observed his glaring orbs just to enjoy the feeling of their fierce beam upon your face. You had to admit it—even if he felt the urge to slay you, you _loved_ the attention.

 

“Hmm?” You tilted your head slightly. “What’s this? No idea?” you asked. When you still received no answer, you shrugged. Then, very slowly, you began to circle around him. Not once did he twist or move from his current stance to look at you, but from what you could see, his eyes were suspiciously following you while you were still within his sight, then watching you again when you reappeared from the other side. As you were walking around him, you continued your speech, occasionally taking some glances at his figure while you moved along. “Let me give you another hint. When Gresit was being assaulted by the horde, the Bishop and his men were there, correct? Well, did you know that the Bishop had died by the hands of demons during the last raid? Now, here’s the wild part… He was slain inside a church. Right where most would think they were safe.” By the time you were finished, you were back to the front of him. “ _A church_ , Belmont.”

 

It was clear that Trevor’s glare had softened up a little, but he didn’t appear to see where you were going just yet. He raised a brow. “And your point?”

 

“The Wallachian people believe that Christian faith will bring them the protection that they desire from Dracula’s curse, but they have it all wrong. What they think is the cure is really the _poison_. Like moths to a flame, the demons seek out the faithful. Dracula understood the savage devotion of the people to the Church, and he uses that against them.”

 

Trevor’s eyelids tensed back up. “Then what is it you’re suggesting?”

 

“What I’m suggesting…” To his surprise, you brought your face up close. Trevor was significantly taller than you were, but you were still able to bring your lips close enough to his left ear that he could hear you. There was when you briefly caught the pleasing scent of the hunter, reminding you somewhat of burning firewood and fresh oak. “The secret to breaking Dracula’s curse,” you murmured, “is damnation.”

 

Trevor kept as still as stone, and for a second you believed that your argument worked, until he abruptly turned away from you. “Horse shit,” he cursed. “You expect everyone to become a bunch of devil worshipers just to save themselves? And why bother telling me this? Are you expecting _me_ to make them change?” He began to walk towards the door. “If you’re so concerned about people living—which I doubt you are—then you ought to tell them yourself.”

 

But you swiftly appeared on the other side, pressing against his chest as a gesture to halt him. “You’re the one they look up to now. They’ll listen to you, not me.”

 

Perturbed, he grabbed you by the wrists. “That doesn’t explain the other problem. You said that you don’t care about choosing sides. That your only goal here is survival. Why would you care what happens to the people around you?”

 

Heh. You had a feeling he’d ask.

 

You looked at him. Not a word escaped from your lips. There was a moment of silence between the two of you for what seemed like ages. Your face slowly softened and turned blank, and in return, his grip started to loosen. At last, once your visage became entirely expressionless, and once you had established a dramatically strong engagement with Trevor’s eyes, you broke the silence. “Because like you, I still need people, too.”

 

Trevor gave out no comment of confusion or protest. It seemed he had caught the suggestion of seriousness from the way you responded with your eyes alone. His stern expression hadn’t changed, but his grip had turned loose enough that you could move your hands freely again. Taking advantage of your liberty, you carefully placed your hands back on his chest.

 

For some reason, he didn’t reject the touch. When you pushed your liberty further by slowly sliding your hands up to his shoulders, his hands even released your wrists completely, gradually returning to his sides. He was probably wondering what you were doing. He’d find out shortly. “Unlike Dracula, I’m not short-sighted,” you murmured. “He may be forgetting that he needs humans to survive, but I’m not going to do that.”

 

Again, no resistance.

 

Amazing. You kept your hands planted at his shoulders. Carefully taking your gaze from his, you took your time to observe and to embrace the broadness of them. “Humans are a great necessity to the world,” you resumed softly. “And to each other as well. No matter what walks of life we come from, we’re all very social creatures. We cannot survive without each other.” Gently, you squeezed the shoulders in pulses. The pads on his shoulders were a little thick, but you could still take note of the muscle underneath. “From the beginning of our lives, we rely on others. We rely on our mothers and fathers to help us survive. To take care of us, to house us, to feed us…”

 

“But it doesn’t end there.” One of your hands slid back down from his shoulders, just over one of his pectorals. At one point, your thumb had traced just over the golden Belmont crest embroidered upon his shirt. Without making it too obvious, you took note of the alarming firmness of flesh beneath the cloth. “Even as adults, we still rely on the people around us for resources.”

 

In boldness, you took a soft glance back up at Trevor’s face. It almost surprised you how well his visage had softened: his face was now resembling something between fierceness, curiosity, and perhaps something else.

 

Inch by inch, your hand explored back upward. This time, it snaked up the center of his chest. You muttered along as your hand traveled. “We need people for hunt for us,” you began. “We need them to farm for us… To build things for us… To sew clothes for us...”

 

Now, your hand had gotten to the skin of his neck. You had the greatest honor to run your fingertips over the sharp collarbones that you so pleasantly craved. “To serve us… To befriend us…”

 

Your hand reached the side his jaw.

 

“To make love to us.”

 

Trevor’s expression went bare. At that moment, through your gaze alone, you were flashing him a taste of what you had been anticipating so desperately.

 

He turned his face away. He looked off to the side. You only caught his face again, this time holding it firmly by his rugged jaw. Carefully, you turned him back towards you, holding his head in place so that you could keep your eyes on his. This time, your gaze was far sultrier. “You risk your life and everyone else’s for the sake of peace,” you uttered. “I offer you peace without risks. Without responsibility.”

 

Oh, that beautiful jaw. Oh, those lovely dark hairs, bordering it so perfectly. Why not take your time to embrace such a work of art? Your hand crept along his jaw, squeezing it lightly but enough to make a sound from the rough hairs scratching against your palm. “Join me at my side,” you told him passionately. “Help me convince the people to turn against their God so they may be saved from the horrors of Dracula’s curse.”

 

And, those _lips_ …

 

“Be with me,” you whispered. Your thumb brushed over the smooth, full lips, massaging them in circular motions. “You will never have to see another innocent soul die horrible ever again. All the violence you see now will become a thing of the past, and Dracula will be helpless.”

 

_You wanted those lips_.

 

Eyelids drooping, your face was but an inch from his. You could feel his deep, warm breath ghosting over your lower face as you neared your mouth towards his. Now, the only thing between them was the little set of words you had to say in the most wanting whisper. “Together, we can end this tonight. We can put an end to this horrible nightmare…”

 

“Right here.”

 

“Right now.”

 

You knew you could have whatever you wanted.

 

Finally, by the grace of Trevor Belmont’s fire, your fantasy had come to life. Breaths were robbed from one another as lips clashed with lips into a blazing kiss.

 

Your soul was damned. You were not to walk anywhere near the Gates of Heaven. But if by some lucky chance you could go, then you were sure Heaven would taste like this. The garden that was your lust, dry and famished, was now at last being quenched by the sweet waters of the mouth of your heart’s desire. Moving, sucking and kneading in smooth motions, you embraced the beauty of his lips so much that you own lips would nearly swell red by the time this was over.

 

Trevor’s arms had found their way around your waste, pulling your bodies together tightly while you continued the kiss. The gesture forced a quiet groan out of your mouth and into his—a sound that was quickly returned with the sudden flick of a tongue against your lower lip. Excited by the feeling, you sneaked your own tongue past his lips to brush along the roof of his chasm. It wasn’t long before the movement of your tongues erupted into a full-fledged dance together in the mix of the wet kisses, sending you higher and higher into sheer ecstasy like there was no limit.

 

Then, suddenly, you could feel Trevor lifting you from off the floor. He carried you forward until you felt your back up against the wall, where he proceeded to press his body hard against yours while kissing you some more. When the skirt of your dress proved to be in the way of the embrace, he quickly hitched the skirt up to your knees so that his waist could find a firm place between your legs, torso pressing even harder against yours as to keep you held up. Again, you released a delightful sigh against his lips, clinging tightly to the strong body with much fervor.

 

And as he gripped beneath your knees and pulled your hips even tighter to his own, you were alerted by something hard poking into you. Judging from your current position, you knew that it was neither the handle of his whip nor the hilt of his sword. In truth, it almost made you crack a smile and chuckle.

 

With a loud suck and a bite of your lower lip, Trevor pulled out of the kiss. His breath had gotten much heavier, and his pupils had dilated. “Shall we continue right here or go someplace else?” he breathed.

 

Through pleased eyes, you stared at him and grinned, biting your lip as you pondered for a moment. “Let’s not waste time with destination,” you finally answered. “Here will do.”

 

As you wished. The hunter carried your body again, this time over to the large wooden table nearby. Whatever was on that piece of furniture had been vigorously cleared off in one sweeping motion and had fallen to the floor with a smash—all to be immediately replaced by your body.

 

Laying on your back, legs dangling over the table and still welcoming Trevor’s waist, you pulled the man down over you for a second enflaming kiss. After a few deep kisses, his mouth gradually explored down from your mouth until they reached the crook of your neck. His lips remained on that spot, planting loud, wet kisses upon your hot skin, letting out a faint groan when you snickered and ran a hand through his hair.

 

_That’s right, Trevor Belmont. Be mine. Worship me. Worship my body, and set it on fire with your own._

_Burn me._

Next, you heard a metallic jingle. While the hunter was working at your neck, he had let go of your legs to remove the belts at his waist. In one swift motion, he pulled them down along with the red cloth, his weapons hitting the floor with a loud clunk before his foot swept everything off to the side. Afterwards, he finished kissing you to stand up straight again, this time focusing on his shirt. He didn’t hesitate to grab the cloth and tug it over his head, with shoulder pads and straps not seeming to give him any trouble, then unceremoniously toss it to his left.

 

You gawked at him in amazement of the body unveiled. His shape was almost as flawless as that of a Greek god. Lumps of muscle rolled beneath soft skin that was decked with a couple of scars dashing here and there, and down the center of his chest and stomach was even a mild trail of thin, dark hair that exaggerated his abdominals to a maiden’s satisfaction. By impulse, you reached up to touch his body, smoothing your hands greedily and trying to feel every inch of the bare flesh. Trevor bent back downwards, leaning into your passionate caresses, but not for the intention of letting you embrace him. You could feel his large hands grasping the top of your dress, and in a rough, jerking motion, he grunted and started to peel it down over your shoulders.

 

Your dress was pulled down completely to your waist. You wore nothing else underneath, leaving your breasts completely exposed for the Belmont to behold. By the look on his face, you could tell that he wasn’t at all disappointed. Eyes growing wide, he looked as if ready to drool. “God, your tits are beautiful,” he commented breathlessly.

 

_They’ll be all yours once you join me, Belmont._

 

The man slammed himself down upon you without warning. You cried out in response to a calloused hand squeezing one breast and a mouth trying desperately to engulf the other. After sucking in a heavy gasp, you groaned and laughed sensually. What roughness. What hunger. You caressed his skin feverishly while he lost his mind to your breasts, sucking at your nipple and continuing to squeeze a good handful of the opposite breast. It was this animalistic adoration that drew an intense heat into the pit of your stomach, preparing you for the delicious acts yet to come.

 

You wouldn’t have to wait much longer, though. After Trevor withdrew himself from your chest with one last pinching suck of your nipple, he gave you a look that was hardly any different from the sinister stare of a wild beast. Excited and aroused, you watched him reach for the buttons on his pants, undoing them with little effort. Finally, grinning wide from ear to ear, he pulled down to his knees.

 

And wasn’t the sight jaw-dropping—a gorgeously erect cock, all yours for the taking.

 

_All. Yours._

 

Moving his hands beneath your bunched-up clothing, Trevor quickly pulled your undergarment down and off your feet, letting it fall to the floor. Grabbing your legs again, he started to pull you into position. Likewise, you propped yourself upward to ease yourself forward until hips met with hips.

 

Trevor first took hold of his member, using the hot, thick tip to tease your wet entrance for a moment to get yourselves going. However, you were too impatient to have it, and thus by latching onto his torso you convinced him to come forward.

 

He sheathed into you roughly. Both of you groaned aloud from the tightness of the fit, taking sweet time to embrace the way he filled you. As if locked into a symbiosis, the two of you simultaneously let out sighs of pleasure, your fiery eyes connecting with each other and channeling the built-up lust within your hearts. In truth, he and you were staring at each other no differently than a pair of wild tigers in the heat of mating.

 

Starting at a slow pace, he fucked you on the table in strong strokes. You weren’t exactly sure which was louder: the low grunts, or the creaking of the wooden table beneath you. That table _did_ look fairly old, after all—was it going to withstand the both of you without breaking? Then again, even if it did, who honestly cared? It wasn’t his table, and it sure as hell wasn’t yours. And, for some reason, the thought of your intercourse doing some collateral damage along the way was sort of arousing.

 

During the frontal thrusts, you noticed Trevor beginning to bear his teeth at you, the thrusts growing a little harder. Then, you were taken by surprise as he slipped his cock out of you, and you were about to question him when you suddenly felt yourself being tossed around onto your stomach. You released a yelp as your body fell down hard onto the wood with a thud, the pain instantly accompanied by a rough pull on your hair which made your head snap back. The hard shaft rammed itself back into you, forcing some louder, more breathless whines out of you with even more brutal thrusts. After a minute of such humping, your hair was released, and the hands proceeded to grip your hips so hard that you were almost sure to have some bruises in the morning.

 

Sure. Okay. You liked things very rough. But being submissive wasn’t a thing you’d put up with for long.

 

**_WHACK!_ **

 

Trevor was instantly thrown off guard. Oh, there was _definitely_ going to be a handprint on that pretty face for a while…

 

In a split second, the man was already slammed down upon the table like a hunk of meat to be butchered. Once his back met the coarse platform, you swiftly mounted yourself upon him and settled your hips down over his. Without struggle, you guided him back into your womanhood and then grabbed his hands to find their positions back onto your hips. Trevor looked absolutely dumbfounded by your move, but he obeyed and held you down accordingly onto his cock. There, you furiously rode him like a horse, his powerful hips moving your body up and down while he watched you.

 

“Dirty boy,” you hissed.

 

Right after you spoke, you felt his cock twitch.

 

Intrigued by the feeling, you chuckled in between your moaning. So, were you just discovering something a little personal about the Belmont son? Did he like to be degraded, perhaps?

 

You’d test that suspicion.

 

**_WHACK!_ **

 

The hunter made a guttural cry of pain. The handprint from the first slap was already manifesting on his cheek, and the second one was likely to make it worse. Still, he didn’t stop thrusting into you. In fact, he _fucked faster_.

 

Another twitch.

 

“N-Nnngh!... Come on, Belmont,” you growled at him. “Is that the best you can do?... U-uunh… _Is it_?!”

 

Trevor’s eyes only beamed at you with the darkest stare. Squinting and bearing his teeth like a wolf, he stabbed into your womb even harder. You could feel the tip hitting against your cervix, giving you a most unforgivable burn. But oh, hell, you loved it _._ You could feel it welling inside you. You were so close to the climax _. So close._

“Fuck me, you _whoreson_!”

 

**_WHACK!_ **

 

Like a tortured animal, Trevor had enough. He whined. He snarled. The beast awakened, and he kicked it into full gear, cock twitching more violently and proclaiming the arrival of his climax.

 

Grabbing the back of his hair, you braced yourself for the ride.

 

By some black magic unbeknownst to you, Trevor’s hips moved at alarming speed and strength. Had he not been digging his fingers so hard into your sides, you would’ve surely tumbled over. Moans growing higher, breaths growing harder, you were beginning to feel yourself going lightheaded both from the lack of oxygen and the peak that was about to go off. However, Trevor was probably in more danger than you were—face growing red, sweat dripping and breaths getting frantic, he almost looked as if ready to black out before reaching his orgasm.

 

Thankfully, that didn’t happen.

 

In one last symphony of passionate screams, the two of you orgasmed. His seed exploded into your womb, quenching your desires at last.

 

But for you, one fuck wasn’t enough to end it.

 

After the white-out in your vision had cleared, and after you could muster the air to speak again, you reopened your eyes, then looked down at your lover. “ _Join me_.”

 

It took a moment for Trevor to catch his breath and regain his consciousness. You allowed him to do so, watching his messy face carefully for any hint at his response. You had nothing to worry about, though. You were sure he’d accept. What kind of a fool would turn down the offer, especially if it meant becoming your lover? Who wouldn’t want to be your lover? _Yours_?

 

Then, the moment you were waiting for. Along with the reopening of those lovely eyes was the widest, proudest smirk you had ever seen on a man’s face.

 

“ _No_.”

 

~ooo~

 

This time around, you’d let him walk away alive. With anybody else, he wouldn’t have been so lucky.

 

Without a doubt, you _yearned_ to kill him right then and there upon the table, right when you had the chance. Before you could deliver the fatal blow, however, you changed your mind. The vampire hunter wouldn’t have his death by your hand—it was _far_ too merciful. To demon’s meat with him! He could rot in the bloody piles of corpses tonight, just like the rest of them.

 

Hurrying down the rubble path with a slight limp in his step, Trevor looked forward at the horizon and the lining of the nearby town. The reddened sun was hanging low behind the mountains, now just moments away from setting fully.

 

Back from a window above, you were eyeing the sky as well, albeit with an unpleasant look that could turn even the prettiest woman’s face into the true visage of a black witch, wrecked by all her real colors.

 

_Go ahead. Run, you coward. Your arrogance shall be your undoing. If you choose not to be mine, then I will make certain that we deliver you a death that is only suitable for pigs._

_God help you, Trevor Belmont._


End file.
